


I've been a stranger ever since we fell apart

by Someonewhosfunny



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angsty Schmoop, Drabble, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someonewhosfunny/pseuds/Someonewhosfunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fernando's life seems to be hitting a new low, he thinks of a certain Sevillian. Regret and nostalgia ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've been a stranger ever since we fell apart

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "I Need Your Love" by Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding.  
> Let me know what you think! Feedback is always, always appreciated! Thank you! :)

I thought the sun shined out of your smile (it turns out I was right, because the only time it ever seemed to shine was when I was with you). I thought you held the entire world in your hands (you did) and I was convinced that if I could just catch it, just keep you, I would always have it right in the palm of my hands. (I was wrong). Exactly like you, it left me. It was fleeting. As much as I wanted to keep it forever, keep you forever, I had to let it go. I let _you_ go and I thought I’d be leaving you behind, but it was really you who left _me_ behind. It’s you who’s been out there chasing glory when all I’m chasing is the remnants of my reputation. Still, you look at me like the moon shines in my eyes and you just want to drink it in. (And I can’t thank you enough for making me feel worth something again.)

Because all these days have felt very long. And all these trials have felt very hard. Football is something I used to love, used to breathe in like oxygen. Now I’m not so sure what I love. (Just you).

The day you told me you loved me was the best I ever lived.

And the worst? Not the day I cleaned out my locker at Anfield or the night I came home crying because I knew in my heart I was not enough anymore. Not when I realized that blue couldn’t love me half as much as you.

It was my final day that was the worst. Bags packed and shipped to England already. It was the whirlwind that began as soon as I put pen to paper, and not two days later, when we stood outside my house in front of a cab.

            “Take care in Liverpool, Niño. I’ll miss you.”

            “I’ll miss you, too, _Gitano_ ,” I replied, trying not to let my voice tremble.

            And by that I meant _I love you_. And I wanted to say: _Don’t let me leave. Beg me to stay_.

            “I hope you settle into your new home quickly.”

 _But it isn’t home_ , I wanted to shout. _Nowhere is home without you._ And even though I’d miss the sunsets and the heat of Madrid, I’d miss your smile more. Because waking up next to you again would make even the chilliest bed in England feel warm, and without you, even Brazil could send ice into my veins. (But you will be with me in Brazil. And we will lift trophies together and bask in glory and love. We’ll pretend for a minute that none of this ever happened.)  

            “I’ll call you,” I promised, hands fluttering awkwardly and eyes unfocused.

            “I have training, Fer. When you get in, I’ll be training.”

            I nodded frantically. “Of course. Of course.”

 _I’ll see you around_ , I wanted to say, but I knew I wouldn’t. Not when I was over a thousand miles away. The only time we’d be together anymore would be at national call ups, but at least we’d be playing for the same side. No more thrashings from your team when mine could barely drag through the season intact. I was finally getting out like you always wanted me to ( _You’re not happy, Fernando. I hate to see you so damn unhappy_ ). Just not in this way. You wanted me to be a white.

But I could never be a white and you knew that. It was hard enough to go as it was, to break a million hearts as my plane took off from the only city I’d ever called home. To stab the supporters in the back, the ones who praised me like a God even though I was just a kid, and move to their neighbors (their handsomer, richer, more victorious rivals) would be an offense I could never commit. (Or so I thought. But in a few more years I would really understand the meaning of the word _traitor_ , feel the weight of it on my tired heart.)  

So I was leaving the country, then. As what? A coward? A hero? _Would the supporters still remember my name after this?_ I wondered. _Would I still be their Golden Boy?_ (I would. They would always love me, even when the rest of the world turned their backs.)

It was hard for me to care in that moment, however, about anything more than the opinion of the boy in front of me: you, who I had loved since I was just a boy and would continue to love until I became a man. But you would never be the same, never be as familiar, as you were in those final moments in front of the cab.

            “Goodbye,” I said to you. _Goodbye my sun. I’m ready to face the clouds_.

You were fire: energy and passion and love all rolled into a supernova of life. Unapologetic and headstrong. Your confidence showed in your loud laugh and proud posture. You were everything I was not. Warm. Loyal. You _belonged_ in Madrid, in Spain, because your pride was so strong for our country that it threatened to burst. If you had the chance to give your life for Spain, you would do it a thousand times over.  

I always wished for your loyalty, Ser. Maybe that would’ve kept me there with you. Maybe I would’ve stayed in Spain and my life would’ve been different. I could’ve had a nice house in Madrid and a stable (draining, disheartening, and disappointing) career at Atleti. I could’ve had you.

But no. The only thing I’m good at is leaving, and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to prove that.

           

**Author's Note:**

> This is the shortest thing I've ever posted (and I was not pleased about that) but this idea came to me randomly at about two in the morning. Inspire by this tumblr post: http://balsambreath.tumblr.com/post/54981682810 
> 
> This is what happens when I read too much Football RPF. I start writing it! 
> 
> I might actually write more in this fandom, but we'll see!


End file.
